The Demon Within Her
by SantittanyForever
Summary: AU Brittana fic. Based on the movie Jennifer's Body.


**So this is probably the longest one-shot in the world, but I really didn't want to make this into a multi-chaptered fic because I thought it would be better as one giant single story.**

**Also, if you haven't seen Jennifer's Body, don't worry, this should still make sense to you. It'll just be a tad more interesting for those of you who have seen the movie because you'll have some grounds to base it on, that's all.**

**Regardless of whether you've seen the movie or not, I hope you all enjoy this. Anyway, on with the fic!**

* * *

"So, Dr Gilmore. How's she doing?"

"A little better, Mr Pierce. She's actually started to participate in group therapy, which is a colossal breakthrough considering her blunt refusal to talk when she was first brought in."

"Well, that's good."

"Yes, and she's also taken us by a bit of surprise by showing some enthusiasm when it comes to the mandatory lessons provided here. She seems to really be enjoying her classes, and has actually achieved some of the highest scores we've seen in a long time."

"Wow. Well, I, uh... I don't know what to think."

"What do you mean, Mr Pierce?"

"Well, on the one hand, I'm immensely proud of my daughter for doing so well, as you've said. But on the other hand, I can't help but to somewhat doubt her intellectual abilities when she's being pitted against schizophrenics and drug addicts."

Dr Gilmore leaned back slowly, surveying the man opposite him sceptically.

"You think our residents are stupid, Mr Pierce?"

"No, no," he tried to amend his words, although it was a little too late for that, "I just mean that this may not be the most accurate assessment of her capabilities-"

"Mr Pierce, I assure you that Brittany is receiving the best possible education she can during her stay here at Turnley Institute, and you will do well to respect the institution that is trying to help your daughter and bring her back to some sense of normalcy after all she's been through. Is that good enough to quash any doubts you may be having?"

Mr Pierce simply nodded, swallowing loudly and fidgeting in a nervous manner.

"Alright, well I think that draws our meeting to a close. Thank you for coming in Mr Pierce, we'll see you again in a month's time."

A firm handshake, a reassuring smile, and then silence as the broad blonde man left the room, letting the door swing shut behind him.

* * *

I wasn't always this crazy. I wasn't always the girl who was whispered about in school hallways, the girl people used in their horror stories on Halloween while they perched around campfires in the dark confines of the forests that encircled our tiny little town of Lima.

There was a time, a while ago, when I was normal. Well, as normal as a teenage girl going through puberty can be. But I did all that normal girl stuff: parties, boys, school. School more than anything. The parties and boys were more Santana's forte. She was my best friend.

Our friendship always seemed to baffle people - they couldn't understand why this gorgeous, tan, confident young woman, who was Head Cheerleader along with being one of the most popular and desired girls in school, would even want to associate with a clumsy dork like me whose greatest social accolades were participating in the regional spelling bee and earning our school that first place trophy that Principal Figgins is so proud of. But after one fateful day in kindergarten involving the sharing of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, we were inseparable.

And beneath the layers of our friendship simmered something more, something we never spoke about but we both sensed it, lingering just below the surface. It was a raw kind of tension, searing hot at times, and it emerged at the most unexpected moments - when Santana would run her fingers through my hair before helping me style it for a party, or when she would catch me staring at her for a heartbeat too long. We never confronted this strange, haunting feeling, but we never denied it either; it was comforting, having that bond with each other. And of course, neither one of us suspected that it would go as deep as being feelings of love, I mean, why would we? As far as we were concerned, we were both straight girls who just enjoyed spending time with our best friend. That's totally normal, right? Or so we thought.

Anyway, I'm getting off topic. Where was I? Oh right, Santana. So people thought it was pretty weird that we were so close, but no one was more sceptical of our friendship than my boyfriend at the time. Looking back, I'm kind of glad things didn't work out with Artie. I mean, he was sweet and everything, but even if things hadn't happened the way they had, I still would've broken up with him in the end. We just weren't right for each other. But as I was saying, Artie was the one person who could never fully accept mine and Santana's friendship. He bombarded me with countless theories, ideas involving conspiracies and deception, most revolving around the idea that Santana was just using me for some inexplicable reason. But no matter how much he implored me to listen, I refused; Santana was my best friend, and if he couldn't handle that then that would mean the end of us as a couple. So eventually he surrendered, choosing instead to glare at Santana whenever the three of us hung out, to which she simply responded with a giggle and an over-exaggerated air kiss, which made me laugh and only served to infuriate poor Artie even more.

But we simply ignored the stares, the stagnant whispers that floated around us as we walked through our well-tread school halls. Half of the students thought Santana was simply hanging out with me out of pity, while the other half believed the rumour that Santana was forcing me to hang out with her and that I acted as her 'slave', doing her homework and driving her to places, all utterly untrue of course. I didn't understand how anyone could think Santana was that cruel or vindictive; I mean, she did come across as rather threatening to anyone who crossed her path at the wrong moment, but none of them got to see the side of herself that she kept hidden, the side that only appeared when it was just the two of us, cuddling on the sofa watching a movie, or simply lying in bed and talking about our dreams for the future. That was the Santana that I knew and… loved.

Up until a certain point, there was never a moment where I feared Santana or felt threatened by her. Not until that night. On that night, within the space of a few terrifying hours, everything changed. And I mean everything…

* * *

It began as a normal Thursday night. Santana had arrived at my house at around 8, much to Artie's annoyance; I think he was hoping we could fool around a little before it was time for me to go. Typical teenage boy. But anyway, the slam of a car door and the loud clap of heels against the sidewalk alerted us to Santana's arrival, and I raced down the stairs, eager to show her my outfit and hope to gain her approval. That was an important thing when it came to Santana; whenever we were going out anywhere, I had to abide by a very strict dress code – I couldn't look too dorky, or she'd refuse to be seen with me, but at the same time, I couldn't go all-out slutty and out-do her, or I would have to face her wrath; and Hell hath no fury like a Santana scorned. So on this night, I had opted for a tight-fitting top that generously accentuated my boobs, accompanied by loose jeans and my favourite sneakers.

I bounded down the stairs, yanking the door open, before standing to attention, ready to be evaluated.

"Hm." Came the simple reply as her eyes raked over me, but I knew that was Santana-speak for acceptable. I breathed a small sigh of relief before making my way back upstairs to grab my bag and kick Artie out. He followed me back down the stairs, looking gloomier than a miserable rainy day in London.

"Aw, come on Abrams. Loosen up a little." Santana smirked, enjoying the mixture of discomfort and loathing on my boyfriend's face.

"Come on San, let's go." I urged softly, tugging on her arm.

We walked down my steps and towards her car, hearing Artie continue his discontent moaning from behind us.

"Stop stealing my girlfriend." He muttered angrily.

"You wish!" Santana called back. "You're just lime-green jello that your girlfriend would rather hang out with me tonight and you can't even admit it, Artie."

"I'm not… fucking jealous." He spoke through gritted teeth.

"Whatever. Laters dork!" Santana called through the window, and then we were off, speeding down the darkening street before Artie even had a chance to respond.

* * *

"So, San, where are we going again?" I enquired softly.

"Oh, you know that bar, Skank? It's owned by that Noah guy."

"Oh, Jake's brother?"

"Yeah, that's the one. Well, tonight they've booked this indie band, and they're super cool, it's an all-girl group called High Top and they're from the city and they're SO hot!"

Santana began giggling at this point, and I couldn't help but grin back at her as she gripped my hand tightly with excitement.

* * *

We arrived at the bar pretty quickly, Santana pulling into a space before leaping out of the car, practically quivering with excitement.

"Come on Britt, let's go!"

I let her tow me by my hand, subconsciously enjoying the feeling of her fingers intertwined with mine. We strolled in, or rather Santana strolled in, I shuffled in behind her worrying about someone asking us for ID and us subsequently being kicked out for being underage.

"Britt," Santana turned to me, noticing my unease, "Would you please relax? Jake put in a good word with Puck, we're fine."

As if on cue, a tall young man with a Mohawk stepped out from behind the bar and made his way to us, a cocky smirk adorning his leathery face.

"Ladies! Jake told me you'd be gracing us with your fine selves tonight."

I watched Santana as she adopted her familiar 'flirt' face before sauntering over to Puck, placing her hand on his shoulder and running it slowly down his bicep.

"Yeah, but there's a little problem."

Puck quirked his eyebrow curiously.

"You see, _Noah,_" she drawled seductively, "Britt and I are just so very thirsty, but we can't get anything to drink. I don't know if there's any way you could help us with that?"

The young man grinned triumphantly before turning back to the bar and retrieving two beers, handing one to Santana before unceremoniously thrusting the other in my general direction, his eyes never leaving Santana's face as she tilted the bottle back and took a long swig, licking her lips slowly to gather up any rogue droplets.

"Hm. Perfect."

She threw Puck a cursory wink before looping her arm through mine and leading me towards the stage where the band were setting up.

"Oh my god, Britt, look! There they are."

Santana gazed up at the stage, eyes wide, awestruck. And I could see why; the band was made up of some of the hottest girls to ever grace the only dusty bar in Lima.

Before I knew what was even happening, Santana had walked over to the stage and was extending her hand out to the girl closest to us, who I presumed was the singer due to her current fumbling with the microphone cables.

"Hey, uh, I'm Santana, and this is Brittany. We're, uh, well, I'm a really big fan of yours and I couldn't believe it when I heard that you were playing here at Skank."

I'd never really seen this side of Santana before, this awkward, stuttering fangirl, but honestly it was pretty endearing. Not that I'd ever tell her that, of course.

She spent the next two minutes or so fawning over the singer, whose name turned out to be Rachel, before introducing herself enthusiastically to the other band members. She returned to where I was standing towards the right side of the stage a while later, grinning from ear to ear, chattering away.

"Okay, so the singer, she's called Rachel and she's really cool. And then there's the lead guitarist, she's called Quinn, her and Rachel are kind of involved with each other. The bass player is Sugar, she seems kinda ditzy but super sweet, and the drummer is called Tina, she's all dark and broody. But aren't they all so awesome Britt, I can't believe I just went up and spoke to them…"

While Santana continued to chatter away, I noticed a flicker of movement in the corner of my eye. I turned my head slightly and saw Quinn, the guitarist, head tilted to the side, studying Santana with the most peculiar expression on her face. The way she was watching her, it was almost animalistic, like the way a lion prowls silently through the grass before launching an attack upon its prey.

But I tried to brush it off, convincing myself that she probably just found Santana attractive – and telling Santana about any suspicions I was harbouring about the band would be pointless anyway, she was utterly infatuated with them. So I just continued to listen to her raving about how amazing they are, and she carried on like this for a good few minutes before the lights dimmed and a booming voice echoed over the small crowd that had gathered to surround the little stage.

"Everyone, please put your hands together and give a warm Lima welcome to these gorgeous young ladies who have travelled all the way from Brooklyn to be here tonight… High Top!"

The first few notes screamed out from Quinn's guitar before clashing music began reverberating off the shaky walls that surrounded us. But the crowd simply cheered for more, jumping up and down, a sea of bodies lost in the beauty of the music. And Santana seemed to transform before my eyes as soon as the first song began; she slipped into what seemed to be a trance-like state, hypnotised by the wavering melodies and siren-like voices.

And because it was so loud and everyone was so captivated by the music, it took a few minutes for anyone to even notice the acrid black smoke billowing up from behind the bar. And when people eventually did begin to notice, havoc ensued.

People were dashing towards doors, windows, any possible escape route that would allow them to free themselves from the writhing smoky tendrils snaking their way across the room, snaring innocent victims and dragging them mercilessly to the floor until air could no longer enter their lifeless bodies. I glanced around and noticed the door to the bathroom, and I figured that any bathroom had to have a window, right? So I grabbed Santana and pushed my way through the throbbing mass of people until we were suddenly cut off from all the noise, surrounded by porcelain sinks and cubicles.

"Okay, San, we need to get this window open, then we'll be safe outside, okay?" I gasped, while I shoved at the window latch with all my might. Alas, the thing wouldn't budge, so I decided to be a little more creative, picked up the metal trash can that was sitting idly to my right, and threw it at the window. I breathed a sigh of relief as I stood back and watched the glass burst into smithereens, tiny shards scattered across the floor like a trail of breadcrumbs.

"Alright San, it's done. Let's go!"

Santana simply nodded and began hoisting herself through the frame, carefully avoiding any protruding pieces of glass. She had been completely silent this whole time, which was wholly unlike her and had me worried, but I decided that I could fret about her lack of speech once we were away from the raging inferno that was growing more and more each second.

A few moments later and we were both outside, collapsed on the grassy bank onto which we had landed. My breath was coming out in short, sharp pants, a delayed reaction to what we had witnessed inside. Santana, on the other hand, seemed to be in a state of shock, simply staring ahead and not uttering a word.

"Santana?" I spoke softly, not wanting to startle her. "Santana, look at me."

But she remained motionless, until a somewhat familiar voice floated across the parking lot.

"You ladies look like you could use some help." It was Rachel, who was being shadowed closely by her fellow band members.

Santana looked up, the hint of a smile on her parted lips. I didn't like the way they were looking at her though, almost as if they were examining her.

"No, no, we're fine. I'm just going to drive us back to my house now-" I began.

"Don't be silly." Quinn interrupted, and even I had to pause for a moment to bask in the glory of her voice upon hearing it for the first time. It was enchanting; soft, like velvet, yet with an edge to it, something dangerous; almost like it was dripping with sugar-coated razorblades. "We'd be happy to give you a ride."

Everything about the situation seemed wrong to me; it put me on edge. Quinn's silky smooth tone, the way Sugar was visibly vibrating with excitement behind her, the devilish smirk on Rachel's face as she sauntered closer to Santana and me.

"No, really, we'll be fi-"

"Okay."

I turned to stare at Santana, watching her mouth to be sure I had just heard her speak.

"…What?"

"I said okay, they can give us a ride." She muttered, eyes clouded, by shock or awe I couldn't tell.

"San, stop it. Don't be stupid." I spoke quietly through gritted teeth, so only she could hear. "You don't know these women, you can't trust them."

But my words fell upon deaf ears as she rose to stand by Rachel, the brunette singer smiling wryly before placing her arm around Santana's shoulders.

"Santana, please-"

"Fucking hell Brittany, back off! Would you just shut up for once and stop being such a loser?" she snapped.

I was stunned into silence at her harsh words, and then could do nothing but watch helplessly as they led Santana over to their van. I caught a glimpse of her eyes, peering at me from within the dark confines of the vehicle, before the door was slammed shut by Rachel. She turned to face me, sneering at me, her eyes hard and unsympathetic, before climbing into the driver's seat and pulling out of the park lot, taking Santana with her.

* * *

I didn't know what to do. The only thought my brain could process was that I needed to get home, home was safe.

Thankfully Santana had given me her keys to look after, so I quickly raced to her car and clambered in, hands shaking, head reeling with all that had happened in such a short space of time.

I reached my house in a matter of minutes – like I said, Lima is a small place – and thrust my key into the front door manically. Everything was just starting to hit me, and I found myself having difficulty breathing. I leant against the wall, the cool tiles refreshing against my forehead, wishing my mother didn't have to work night shifts at the hospital, wishing there was someone I could call to help me sift through the sludgy mess of confusion that the events of the night had incited in my mind.

I took a deep breath, debating calling Artie and asking him to stay with me. I decided that being with him was preferable to being alone considering all that had happened, so I pushed myself off the wall and walked the length of the hallway to the phone that was placed on the mantelpiece in the living room.

But just as I was reaching for the phone, I heard a soft click coming from the kitchen, a sound that was terrifyingly similar to the sound of a latch being opened. I froze, my heartbeat pounding in my ears, throat dry, hands trembling. I turned achingly slowly, facing the arch that led into the kitchen. Dark shadows flung themselves across the room, making it difficult to see more than the outlines of our various kitchen appliances. Yet I dragged my eyes across every silhouette, trying to find the source of the noise. After agonising seconds of fruitless searching, I let out the breath I didn't know I had been holding it, deciding it must have simply been my mind playing tricks on me.

But as I turned to reach for the phone once more, I felt the unmistakable presence of a warm body directly behind me.

My body felt locked, rigid with fear. I couldn't move, couldn't scream for help. I closed my eyes, anticipating the worst… and felt a hand gently stroke my arm.

I opened my eyes slowly, more than a little confused as to what exactly was going on. I turned, palms clammy, heart racing with anticipation, not knowing what to expect.

The sight I was met with was worse than anything I could've imagined.

"…Santana?"

Except, she looked entirely different than how she had looked when we were back at the bar.

Her eyes were flat, emotionless, and she was staring at me with what could only be described as a gormless expression on her face. But her eyes weren't the only things that had changed. She was absolutely covered in blood. Streaks of it, marring her face, her arms, her torso, everywhere. I couldn't tell if she was in pain, or how badly she was hurt; she just stood there, staring at me, her expression undecipherable.

She then took a few clumsy steps forward, until she was close enough for me to smell the rancid odour of the blood that was caked in her hair.

She raised her arm, and I cowered instinctively, but was utterly surprised when I felt her hand gently stroke my cheek. I opened my half-closed eyes and gazed at her in bewilderment, entirely confused about everything that was happening.

"Brittany…" she whispered.

And then, before I even had time to process what had occurred, she had raced out of the kitchen and into my garden, gone.

* * *

I woke up for school the next morning in a daze. I was so preoccupied I didn't even talk to Artie when he arrived to pick me up, I just spent the whole car ride sitting in silence. Which was pretty ideal, considering all he could talk about was the fiery hellhole that Skank had become last night.

"I'm telling you Britt, you're lucky you got out when you did! I've heard stories about people being crushed to death when people were rushing to get out, broken spines, faces being burnt off. It's tragic."

I only half paid attention to his words, nodding at appropriate times, too consumed by my thoughts of Santana, whirring round and round, trying to separate reality from imagination. The only thing that was keeping me from going utterly insane was the rug; Santana had left a trail of blood and dirt on my cream rug as she ran out, and I had spent half the night scrubbing that rug clean. That was my last piece of sanity and I was clinging onto that for dear life.

* * *

Considering all that had happened last night, you could imagine my consternation when I walked into homeroom and found Santana sitting at our desk, looking as fierce as ever and, more importantly, completely normal. My eyes widened, wondering if this was all a vivid hallucination brought on by the trauma of last night. But no, as I took my seat next to her, gazing at her, it was obvious that she was very real and very much alive.

"Why don't you take a picture, Britt? It'll last longer."

So her snarky attitude was back too.

"I, uh… I mean… how…"

"Uh, uh. God Britt, you really need to work on your diction." She mimicked, smirking as I gawked at her, speechless as to how she seemed so fine after last night.

"But you… last night… you just… you were in my house… and you… all that blood…"

She sighed, rolling her eyes before turning painstakingly slowly to face me.

"Look Britt, you know I love you. But I really think you need to see someone about these vivid dreams you keep having. They're really starting to mess you up."

And with that, she turned back to face the front of the classroom as our teacher began talking mournfully about the tragic series of events that had befallen our precious town the previous night.

I simply remained silent for the rest of the lesson after that, the cogs in my head whirring around and around, trying to decipher what the fuck was going on.

* * *

A few days passed before I noticed anything strange about Santana. She arrived in school on Monday, and she looked… different in comparison to how she'd looked the day after the fire. She hadn't sprouted horns or anything, but she looked almost, dare I say… unattractive. Well, unattractive for her. Her hair was limp, her skin had broken out in acne and her eyes were dull and lifeless, all over the space of one weekend. It was shocking, to say the least.

When I confronted her about it, she barely acknowledged my concerned questions, only muttering about something 'wearing off' before she shuffled into our next class.

Wearing off? I didn't even have the slightest clue what that could have been referring to. Nevertheless, I resolved to get to the bottom of this and find out what exactly had happened to my best friend after she'd been taken by those weird rock chicks.

* * *

However, my determination to find out what had happened was brought to a halt a few days later when another devastating announcement was made during homeroom.

_**-7:12am, Wednesday, March 3**__**rd**__**: **__Body found in woods. Sam Evans._

Turns out that Sam Evans, our star quarterback, had been found dead in the woods this morning. Our teacher described the scene as horrific, saying his body had been found, or rather pieces of his body had been found, scattered around the woods that lay just beyond our football field. I was more than a little saddened to hear about this, because for the most part Sam was a pretty decent guy, but mostly due to the fact that Sam and I had in fact dated when I had first started at McKinley High School. Santana hadn't been a big fan of him either. Hearing about his untimely and frankly unexpected death was like an unanticipated blow to the stomach, and it left the whole school and the town reeling.

Amidst the chaos of students sobbing in the school hallways, I couldn't help but let my mind wander back to Santana and the weird events that all seemed to be occurring ever since our encounter in my kitchen the other night.

I decided to call in help from Artie to assist me with this puzzling predicament, seeing as he was pretty intelligent - and he was my boyfriend so he was pretty much obligated to help me – and so I arranged to meet him in the library during lunch the following day. I had taken some time before then to do some studying – in the occult section. Now I know what you're thinking; our school library has an occult section? Well, it does, and although it's pretty small, it proved to be rather helpful in this case.

The reason I decided to do some research into this was because some things were beginning to fall into place in my mind. First of all, the band who seemed entirely too interested in Santana had kidnapped her, and she had then returned to me covered in blood, which I concluded may not have all belonged to her. Then, she comes to school the next day looking as radiant as the sun, and tries to act as though she has no recollection of the night before. She then comes into school the following week looking like a zombie that has just been resurrected from its grave, and NOW, a local boy has been found and was described as resembling 'lasagne with teeth', while she's strutting around once again looking like a model fresh off the catwalk. There was also the matter of her unanticipated visit to my bedroom the previous night, but we'll get to that a little later.

After leafing through pages and pages of vampires and witches and things that go bump in the night, I stumbled across a page that seemed to contain some aspects of similarity to the situation I was currently stuck in.

Demons.

According to the books, demons could be created when someone tried to sacrifice a non-virgin to Satan; to simplify, if you tried to kill someone in the name of the devil and they'd been getting jiggy with it, then you had some serious explaining to do to dear old Beelzebub. After several gruelling hours of dissecting each morsel of information, I came up with a theory that surprisingly seemed to add up.

Artie arrived a short while after I came to my startling conclusion, and I couldn't wait to enlighten him with all of the information I had gathered.

"Hey babe-"

"Not now." I cut him off as he leant in for a kiss.

"O-kay." He mumbled, brow furrowed slightly as he took his seat.

"I'm sorry, but this is really important. And I want you to listen to everything I have to say before you jump down my throat and call me crazy."

He simply nodded, eyes wide with confusion.

"Okay, here goes… Santana's evil."

"Well, I know she can have her bitchy days, but-"

"No, Artie, you're not listening. I don't mean like 'high school' evil. I mean, she's actually evil. Remember I told you about those girls in the band who took her after that night at Skank? Well, when she finally returned from wherever they had taken her, she was covered in blood, and it was all round her mouth, and she seemed really shaken up, and then she just vanished, ridiculously quickly for a human," –his eyebrows rose incredulously at this point- "and then she turned up at school the next day like nothing had happened, and then on Monday she looked like death warmed up, that is until Sam disappeared and she was suddenly full of life again. Don't you see what's going on here?!"

A slow head shake.

"She's eating boys! Something happened while she was with that band, they did something to her, and now she's been possessed by this weird demon thing and in order to survive and stay healthy she has to eat people!"

Artie sat back and surveyed me, nibbling his lip.

"Britt… I really think you should talk to the school counsellor."

"…What?!"

"Well, obviously the events of the past few weeks have traumatised you and have caused you to have these weird fantasies and hallucinations, I mean, I know you were upset about Sam, he was your first boyfriend, and now you're projecting your problems onto other things to try and get rid of them. But it's okay. I'm here for you babe."

His blatant disregard for the sheer seriousness of the situation was making my blood boil, and I knew I had to get out of there before I did something I would regret later. So I stormed out, taking my books with me, ignoring Artie's bewildered cry of protest as I walked out of the library and towards the parking lot. I knew I wasn't crazy. Santana had proved it to me the night before…

* * *

**Tuesday night, 11:03pm**

_I was lying in bed, contemplating what could have possibly happened to Santana, and could feel myself drifting off to sleep when I felt a light pressure next to me on my bed. My eyes shot open, my heart rate spiking as I held my breath._

"_Hi."_

_I shot up, screaming bloody murder while flailing and waving my arms around, attempting to ward off any attack that may be coming my way._

"_Jesus Britt, will you just relax?"_

"_Santana?!"_

"_Duh, who else would it be?"_

_I sat down on the edge of the bed, trying to get my breathing under control as I heard her giggle from behind me. _

"_You always were the best at being melodramatic, even as a child."_

_I stood, turning to face her, my arms crossed over my chest._

"_What are you doing here, Santana?"_

"_What do you mean?" she asked, head tilted as she sat up on her knees. "We always share your bed when we have slumber parties."_

_She slowly crawled closer until we were eye to eye, her nose mere centimetres away from mine. She smiled a little, reaching up to brush a strand of hair away from my face, before stroking my chin with her thumb._

_Before I even knew what was happening, her lips were on mine. Soft yet firm, applying enough pressure to send tingles down my spine. _

_Wait. What were we doing? This was Santana. My best friend. We couldn't be kissing. And I had a boyfriend._

_These thoughts were racing wildly round and round my head, and yet I continued to kiss her. That was until the image of Santana coated in blood floated into my mind, and then it was all I could do not to throw her out of my window right then and there. I settled for shoving her away from me, before I sat back down, wiping my mouth and trembling a little._

"_Well, that was… new." She smirked._

"_What are you doing here, Santana? Seriously, what do you want?"_

"_I just want to explain some things to you. I know things have been pretty messed up since the night of the fire, and I want to tell you what happened."_

_I nodded, and waited for her to continue._

"_Okay, so you know High Top, that band we saw that night? Turns out that they're basically like, agents of Satan who make really awesome music."_

_I stared at her, hanging on to her every word._

"_Okay, so I got in their van with them, as you saw, and then they started asking me all these questions about whether I was a virgin or not. I started to get a little freaked, thinking they wanted to do some messed up sexual shit with me, so I told them that I was an innocent little virgin and that they should find someone else to engage in their sordid games. But this only seemed to make them happy, which really confused me. Then we pulled into this secluded clearing in the woods, and they grabbed me and tied me down onto this wooden slab."_

_The only sound in the room at this point was my jagged breathing as Santana continued to speak._

"_They then explained how they were counting on Satan to help them receive the fame and fortune they deserved, and that in order to gain his respect they had to sacrifice a virgin to him. And by this point they had already bound and gagged me, so there was no way for me to explain that I had in fact fucked more people than most of the students in this town combined."_

_My eyes widened a little at that comparison, and I couldn't help but pick up on the fact that she had said fucked more 'people' and not 'guys'._

"_So then, long story short, they stabbed me a few times with a Bowie knife, well, that crazy bitch Rachel stabbed me, the others just stood around whooping like fucking animals. Then they dumped my body in the river by the woods, and that was when I discovered that I had developed an unnatural, uh, craving for meat of the human variety. So I managed to find a hitchhiker who was lost in the woods, had myself a little feast, and then somehow I found my way back to you."_

_It's safe to say I was a little lost for words by this point._

"_Britt?"_

"_Hold on, just give me a second to- YOU'RE EATING PEOPLE?!"_

"_No, not just 'people'." She argued._

_I stared at her in bewilderment._

"_What do you mean?"_

"_First off, I'm only eating boys. And secondly, I'm only eating boys who deserve to be eaten. Well, apart from that poor hitchhiker, he just happened to be in the wrong place at the right time."_

"_Wait a minute, boys who 'deserve' to be eaten? What the fuck does that mean?!"_

"_Well, take Sam for instance."_

"_What has that poor boy ever done to you?"_

"_Remember when you were dating? He stopped you from seeing me a bunch of times because he thought I was a 'bad influence' on you."_

"…_And that constitutes a right for you to have him for lunch?!" I was practically screaming at her by this point._

"_In my books, yes, it does."_

"_So, hold on for a minute. You have this weird thing inside you-"_

"_Demon." She corrected._

"_Fine, demon. You have this __**demon**__ inside of you, and the only way it can be satiated is with human flesh. Correct?"_

_A nod._

"_Okay. And you've decided that, in order to sustain this beast, you're going to eat every boy who has ever pissed you off?"_

_Another nod._

"_Why are you telling me all this?"_

"_Well, because you're my best friend and I don't want you to think I'm just some heartless killer. I don't want you to be afraid of me. I… I care about you." She admitted softly._

_It always startled me when Santana let her guard down occasionally when we were alone, but it also filled me with a strange feeling of contentment. _

"_I can't even tell anyone about this, can I?" I muttered ruefully._

"_Nope." She shook her head with a playful smile. "Besides, who would even believe you if you did?"_

* * *

Things then began to spiral out of control from the day Artie and I argued in the library.

More unexplained disappearances; more bodies found scattered across our miserable little town.

_**-15:32pm, Thursday, March 18**__**th**__**: **__Body found in river. Finn Hudson._

_**-10:15am, Friday, April 10**__**th**__**: **__Body found buried under debris. Rory Flanagan. (Foreign exchange student)_

_**-12:46am, Monday, April 20**__**th**__**: **__Body found hidden beneath bleachers. Rick Nelson._

The body count was the highest it had been in over fifty years.

* * *

Friday came around, and I decided to try to talk some sense into Santana, try to convince her to stop what she was doing, find another way to quench her thirst. I dialled her number and waited anxiously, heart sputtering as she answered on the fifth ring.

"You've got Lopez."

"San, hey."

"Hey Britt! You haven't called me since our little chat the other night. How's it going?"

"Oh, y'know, the usual. You still… enjoying your lunches?"

"Mhmm. Gotta keep my strength up." She actually giggled as she said this, and I found myself struggling to keep my dinner down.

"Yeah, about that. San, do you really have to… I mean, isn't there anything else… look, I want to meet so we can talk properly. Fancy coming over to mine tomorrow? My mum's on a night shift again so we'll have the house to ourselves."

"I'd love to, but I can't. Tomorrow's a big night for me."

I racked my brains, trying to work out what she was talking about. And then it hit me.

Prom.

It had completely slipped my mind since Artie and I had effectively broken up when he continued to disbelieve my theories about Santana, and it only just dawned on me what Santana meant by a 'big night'.

"Wait, San, you don't mean…?"

"Precisely. It'll be like a wonderful banquet laid out just for me."

"But you don't even know half of those guys! They're just innocent students! How could they have ALL pissed you off?"

"Oh, you see, I'm getting tired of that Good Samaritan charade now. I'm done with all of that. I think I'm just going to pick and mix my meals from now on."

Oh no. So Santana was planning on going to prom and devouring as many innocent guys as she wanted to. It would be like an all-you-can-eat buffet. And the meals didn't even know they were on the menu.

* * *

Prom night. This was it. The night when things could go one of two ways – I could manage to reach Santana before she did any more damage and try to steer her back onto a path that didn't involve devouring young males, or I could be too late and she could digest half the football team before the first dance was over.

My plan, or what I managed to come up with in the space of a few hours, was to get to the prom before Santana and drag her away before her tummy started rumbling, in the hope that I could knock some sense into her damned possessed brain. I was hoping that there would still be a rational part of her that would listen to what I had to say. If there wasn't, then I hoped the funeral parlour had ordered in a bulk delivery of coffins…

* * *

I had to admit, I was rather impressed with the way our prom committee had managed to transform our dingy gym into a place worthy of a celebration. The lights were adorned with streamers, silver streaks marring the beautiful deep blue canvas that hung above us, mirroring the night sky. Balloons were strewn around the dance floor in a jagged circle, while the floor itself was alight with strobe lights. It was pretty remarkable.

But I wasn't there to admire the scenery; I was there to stop my psycho best friend/girl I was kind of in love with from killing half the male population of my high school. Such a cliché, right?

I surveyed the room slowly, heart faltering every time I saw a tall girl with long dark hair, but each time they turned around it ended up just being another excited student eagerly anticipating the night she had been waiting for all year. I then took my time studying the boys scattered around the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of Artie, but he was absent too. That was when I started to worry a little.

I mean, Artie not showing up wasn't too much of a surprise, he was still pretty angry with me for breaking up with him when he refused to believe what I was telling him about Santana, but for her not to be here? Tonight, of all nights? Something wasn't right.

I decided to head outside and give her a call, see if I could untangle some of the confusion that had sprouted in my mind – as if things couldn't get any MORE confusing at this point. But as I made my way through the back doors and out into the field behind the school, I heard something that made my blood run cold.

A scream.

A scream that sounded very much like Artie.

My heart was pounding in my throat as my eyes darted across the field, zigzagging frantically, searching for any sign of life, anything to alert me to Artie's whereabouts. There. A flash of white. A shirt? Before I even knew what was happening, my feet were carrying me across the grass, closer to the shuffling and whines of pain that were drifting through the still night air.

I slowed as I reached the thicket ahead of me, not wanting to reveal my presence until I knew what was actually going on. I ducked behind a large shrub, peering round it somewhat hesitantly.

I was confronted by a scene that left me wordless.

Artie was slumped against a tree, breathing shallowly, his eyes slowly becoming drained of life. Santana was straddling him, and while guys normally dreamed of having a girl like Santana on top of them, Artie didn't look too happy considering she was also in the process of gnawing at his throat. I was so horrifyingly bewitched by the scene in front of me that I was careless with placing my next step, the crisp snap of a twig breaking underfoot resonating around the clearing. My heart felt as though it had leapt into my throat as Santana's head slowly turned, until her flat dark eyes were piercing into mine, rooting me to the ground.

"S-San?"

It was nothing but a whisper, a strangled sound that twisted in my throat and had to be forced out. But something seemed to change within her at the sound of my voice; her eyes softened, losing some of the ferocity they had encompassed mere moments ago; the snarl on her face changed to a look of confusion, as if the demon within her had relinquished his hold momentarily; and her grip on Artie's collar grew slack, his body sliding limply down to the mossy forest floor. He hastily scuttled away on his hands and knees, holding his neck which luckily hadn't been too ravaged before I stepped in.

"Britt?"

Santana was watching me, her face a conflict of emotions.

"San, it's okay…"

I took a step towards her, arm outstretched. She slowly began reaching out to take my hand, but froze when voices drifted across the field, breaking the blanket of silence that had descended over the three of us.

"This way! I heard screaming coming from the woods!"

Oh crap. Someone had heard Artie and was coming towards us. I locked eyes with Santana, a silent agreement passing between us. She strode forwards, placing her hands on my cheeks and pressing her lips to mine softly, one final goodbye kiss. And then she was gone. Off through the trees as silently as a wisp of air, Artie staring at me angrily.

"Why did you let her go?! She deserves to be caught and put away, she's insane!"

But I didn't have the energy to fight anymore. I simply shook my head at him, lying down on the cold bed of leaves that lay beneath my feet and wrapping my arms around my head. I could hear the faint wail of sirens in the distance, presumably the police who had been summoned by our principal once he had heard about the commotion out in the woods.

I lay there unmoving, everything that had happened finally washing over me in an overwhelming wave; Santana, the killings, our undeclared feelings for each other that always seemed to be lurking under the surface. I curled up into a ball as memories and thoughts flooded my mind, suffocating me. I barely registered the arrival of the police and a medical team, not even resisting when strong arms lifted me up and placed me on a gurney. I flinched a little as I felt something prick my arm, then a fuzzy face appeared in my line of vision, telling me it would 'help me to relax'. I closed my eyes, Santana's face floating across my mind fleetingly before I was completely dragged under by whatever drug I had been injected with.

The first thing I remember happening after this was waking up here, at Turnley. That was six months ago today. And somehow, I can't see myself leaving this place any time soon.

* * *

**That was a rather lengthy one, eh? But I really hoped you all enjoyed it, and as always feedback is much appreciated :D**


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